Craigslist Boyfriend
by satanstomatobitch
Summary: RusAme Alfred doesn't really realise what he's signing himself up for when, one night in a drunk daze, he puts an advert on Craigslist for a hot Russian boyfriend. When someone messages him, wanting to meet up a few days later, he has no idea what to do... [DEAD FIC] (for now)
1. Chapter 1

**Attention: some of you may realise this story is inspired by a tumblr post. I have tried and tried to find the original creator of the post in order to ask for permission to publish this story, but I could not find them. PLEASE: if you know or are the creator and want me to give you credit, PLEASE email me and I will happily do so. This is not me stealing ideas, this is me taking an idea of which I could not find the creator.**

On a less solemn note, this is the first time I've uploaded a story to Fanfiction. Please leave review etc. and be nice! Enjoy!

 **One**

"Guys, I... I think I'm gay." Alfred took a deep breath and stared every one of his friends in the face as he revealed the secret he'd been hoarding for months. It had taken him half a year to figure out who he was, and another for him to gather the courage to come out, and tonight he had finally done it, whether his friends accepted him or not. He felt apprehension rise in his chest whilst he waited for their responses, their faces blank, their bodies motionless as they stared at him from their seats at the bar. He held a trembling pint of beer in his hands and felt the condensation slowly slip against his fingers. Any second now, if he didn't move and place it on the table, it would fall out of his grip -

"Dude! That's fucking _awesome_!" Gil guffawed, leaping from his seat with gusto. Grinning wildly and laughing loudly so that the whole bar had their eyes on him, he slammed his beer on the counter. He marched over to the American, who was still comically frozen in shock, and slapped him on the back before pulling him into a hug, ignoring the glass Alfred was holding in his hand and sending it crashing to the floor.

"Oh, shit..." Matthias murmured and leapt from his chair, walking over to the two and scooping up the shards with his hands, apologising loudly and hurriedly to the bartender who was giving them the stink-eye. They ignored his irritation and crowded around Alfred, who was slowly regaining his confidence.

"Dude! You got fucking beer on my shoes!" he whined abruptly, sulking at Gil, who sighed and gave Alfred a light shove before pulling him back to the bar. "You'll live." He pointed to the stool next to him. "Sit down, come on."

Alfred perched hesitantly. "So... you're not mad?" He frowned and gave the two a confused look. They scoffed incredulously and gave each other disbelieving looks.

"You're fucking kidding, right? Why the fuck would _we_ be mad?"

Alfred shrugged and casually took a sip from Gilbert's beer. The German protested for a split second before sighing and allowing his grumbles to subside.

"Well, you're both not really... 'gay' gay. So I didn't know if you maybe..."

Matthias scoffed and grinned, leaning forward. "Alfie. Bullshit. Why would we hate you for being gay?"

"You're such an idiot sometimes," Gil chimed in, sliding his beer out of Alfred's hands quickly and gulping the rest down before slamming the glass on the counter and wiping the foam from his mouth. "How could a pan and a bi hate gays? You're such an insecure idiot when it comes to these things." He grinned at his friend and gave him a gentle, chiding shove. "Of course we support you! Oh, but you're gonna have to work on coming out to people. We've known for, like, the best part of three years that you're not straight."

"Yup," Matthias chimed in. Alfred frowned. "How did you know before I even knew?"

"Gaydar," Gil said, dead serious. "We just knew." Matthias nodded like they were secretly spies who had been following him around in suspicion of extreme gayness - okay, Alfred thought to himself, that simile was a little far-fetched, but he had had quite a few beers so it was justified.

He chuckled to himself and the other two joined in, patting him on the back and whispering congratulations to him. Relief filled his mind as he realised he had been accepted.

"So, Alfie!" Gil said testily after a few minutes of comfortable chatter. "Have you gotten yourself a cute boyfriend yet?"

Matthias snickered and Alfred shook his head reluctantly. "No, I don't think I'm ready-"

"Ok, sorry, no. You're too pure to not have a boyfriend," Matthias interrupted fiercely, shaking his head.

"I... I'm not pure!" Alfred bitched, and Matthias rolled his eyes. Gil grinned and reached out his hand.

"Give me your phone, now."

"No!" Alfred retorted defensively, but Matthias reached forward and plucked it casually from his front pocket, opening it with ease. He already knew the password.

"Zero-Seven-Zero-Four? Man, how patriotic can you get?" Gil murmured with a mixture of awe and incredulousness as he watched over Matthias' shoulder. Matthias tutted and nudged him. "Be quiet. I gotta set this up." He typed with ferocity into the phone and Alfred grew curious.

"Guys!" He moaned. "What are you guys doing on my phone?!"

Gil cackled. "Nothing, nothing, we're just setting up a dating profile for you!" He turned back to the phone and pointed with a drooping finger, "ooh, pick that photo. That one. Yeah, he looks totally awesome." He slapped Matthias on the back, grinning at Alfred. "You're gonna love this."

"Guys!" Alfred exclaimed. "Guys, don't, I don't want to-"

"Oh. My. God." Gilbert gasped, clapping two hands to his face and squishing his cheeks together. He shook Matthias' shoulder hurriedly. "Dude. Forget Grindr, do it on fucking Craigslist!"

"Craigslist!" Both Matthias and Alfred exploded at the same time, Matthias guffawing with laughter, Alfred shouting in alarm. "Dude, I swear, if you do that, I'll kick your Danish ass back to Helsinki -"

"Helsinki's in fucking Finland, dumbass," Matthias said casually, "and you ain't stopping me." He started viciously typing anew, Gil peering over his shoulder and letting out short bursts of disbelieving laughter and "dude, are you really gonna put that on there?!" Alfred grew more and more curious, reaching for the phone, but his friends moved it out of his reach every single time, chuckling and giggling like two silly highschool girls with a secret.

"Guys!" He complained. "Come ooonnn!"

"Okay, okay, we're done..." Gil giggled eventually, handing the phone over to Alfred. His eyes widened as he read the advert.

"The hell is this?"

"Read it out, read it out!" His friends urged, and he sighed heavily as he began to read, already dreading his decision.

"'Looking for big beefy Russian hotcake with a twelve pack and a thirteen inch cock'... what the fuck, you guys?!"

"Keep reading!" Matthias and Gilbert wiped tears of laughter from their eyes. Alfred shook his head in disbelief.

"'Must have chest hair and must be taller than six feet. Must be dominate in the bedroom, I'm ready to let my gay American bubblebutt-' okay, whose idea was that part?" His friends roared with laughter, unable to contain themselves. The bartender gave them another filthy look.

"'-bubblebutt ass be pounded into the mattress for at least _three hours_ -' Jesus, who the _fuck_ can last _that_ long?!" He looked up from his phone, his friends red in the face and helpless with laughter.

"'Please bring whips and bondage gear-' okay now you're just overdoing it, since when have I liked bondage-"

"Keep reading!" Gil giggled gleefully, wiping a tear from his eye, Matthias slumped over the desk, shaking silently.

"'Will be compensated with dinner and after sex cuddles with a movie. Reply with pics.' You're fucking joking." Alfred looked up at the two, struggling to maintain a poker face and contain his laughter.

"I'm not!" Gil gasped, slamming the counter and hunching over with laughter. Matthias leaned around him to talk properly to Alfred.

"Admit it, Alfie, that is the best ad anyone's ever seen on Craigslist."

"No way," Alfred said, finally allowing a smile to grace his lips. "You're kidding, right? I'm not putting that on Craigslist."

"Why not?!" His friends whined immediately, slumping back in defeat. "Come on, you've got to get laid somehow!"

"Si - since when was this about getting laid?!" Alfred exclaimed, reddening as he noticed other people in the bar staring at the trio. "You can't be serious!"

"Alfie, it was about you getting laid from the moment you said you were looking for someone to pound your gay American bubblebutt ass into the mattress for three hours," Gil said solemnly, and Alfred pressed his face into his palms in embarrassment. "I'm not putting that up."

"Come ooonnnn," Matthias whined, shaking Alfred's arm gently. "It'll be hilarious!"

"No, it won't!" Alfred was torn between laughing and hiding in despair.

"Come on," Gil said coyly. "I dare you."

"Dare me? Quit acting like a three year old."

"No, really, we dare you," Matthias caught on quickly, grinning at Alfred. "Come on. Be a hero."

"I'm not doing this, you guys..."

"Are you scared of rejection?" Gil teased, and Alfred rolled his eyes, feeling his mind begin to give way. The other people in the pub undeniably had all eyes on their group due to the amount of noise and mess they had been making, and he could hear a few snickers pass between them. Plus, he didn't want to be a pussy...

"F - fine, I'll do it," he snapped, grabbing his phone off the counter and publishing the advert quickly, ignoring the voice in his head telling him this _really_ wasn't a good idea. Matthias and Gilbert watched speechlessly.

"Holy shit, I didn't think he'd actually do it," Matthias said eventually, and Gil nodded silently, a look of awe on his face. "Well, now we know who to thank when you hook up with some sexy Russian guy."

"I - you assholes!" Alfred exclaimed, a furious red blush rushing to his cheeks, but his friends ignored his humiliation and cheered, clapping him on the back, demanding another round for the three of them in order to celebrate Alfred's 'new soon-to-be Russian boyfriend'.


	2. Chapter Two

**Attention: some of you may realise this story is inspired by a tumblr post. I have tried and tried to find the original creator of the post in order to ask for permission to publish this story, but I could not find them. PLEASE: if you know or are the creator and want me to give you credit, PLEASE email me and I will happily do so. This is not me stealing ideas, this is me taking an idea of which I could not find the creator.**

 **Two**

Alfred was at home alone when he got his first reply, watching American TV and making his roommate, Arthur, mad. He knew it cost a fortune to watch CNN from outside of the US, but even though Arthur claimed the BBC was much more reliable, Alfred enjoyed listening to the accents of his home country and anyway, he didn't trust the English much. Far too... English. _Yeah, independence!_ He thought to himself as he blanked out Arthur's incessant nagging and bickering.

"And another thing, you bloody tosser!" Arthur snapped, clicking his fingers next to Alfred's ear, tearing him from his trail of thought. Alfred looked up irritably, ready to respond with an equally snarky and independence-based insult, when his phone buzzed, and, prioritising as always, he promptly shut out his roommate and focused on the notification. To his surprise, it was Craigslist.

 _Oh god_ , he thought to himself. _Here we go._ Opening his laptop and going to the webpage, he opened the reply and started browsing through it. His initial response was surprise - someone had actually taken the advert seriously, someone had legitimately responded with pictures. How could anyone even take that seriously? He laughed under his breath. _Maybe that's the way things are done in Russia_ , he thought, chuckling. _In Soviet Russia, people date on Craigslist... fuck, that's not actually funny,_ he realised after a few seconds of contemplation. _I will need to work on my communism jokes._

He started looking the the images - a selfie of the sender, who he had to admit was pretty attractive. Light mousy brown hair that was cut unevenly and fell in messy little waves, shaping the man's pale face like a lion cub's half-grown mane. His eyes were a startling periwinkle, almost unnatural, but seemed kind and innocent. The man's lips were curved into a sweet smile, and Alfred could see that he was wearing a scarf around his neck. He looked at the name under the image: Ivan Braginsky. Underneath it, an email address: ivanbraginsky@kolkolmail.ru. He murmured the name under his breath, trying to make it sound as Russian as possible with a poor Russian accent. It sounded odd, strange, _but then again_ , he thought, _the guy is Russian._

 _Cute_ , he couldn't help but think, _but can he deliver?_ Moving on to the next image, which was a full-body picture of the man standing in front of some famous landmark with two girls, both so uncannily similar in looks that he reckoned they must be siblings. He towered over them in comparison, definitely over six foot... _okay, a little creepy. So far he meets every requirement. But you're not actually going to talk to this guy, right_? He thought to himself, brow furrowed in thought and forming a confused little frown.

Next picture. He was a little startled by this one - this man, whoever he was, was taking every single requirement seriously. It was - it was a shirtless picture, he admitted to himself, blushing, looking away due to his embarrassment. _God, I am such a virgin_ , he thought to himself, cheeks red. His eyes were drawn to the photo again and he found himself counting under his breath - one, two, three, four, five, six... okay, so he didn't have a twelve pack but, damn, he was ripped.

Like, _damn_.

 _Such a virgin_ , he told himself again, blanching at his adolescent excitement.

"Alfred. Hey, Alfred! Are you looking at nudes?!" He heard a voice behind him snap, and he realised with horror that Arthur had stopped throwing a hissy fit and was leaning over his shoulder, staring at the screen. Alfred jolted and sent him a disturbed look, snapping the screen shut, but Arthur's hand landed between the two halves and he forced it open with a casual look on his face. "Come on, no need to hide it..."

"What the -" Alfred shook his head, astounded as Arthur took in the image, completely pokerfaced as Alfred watched in humiliation like a kid caught practicing kissing with a pillow. After a solid thirty seconds of staring, Arthur turned to him and gave him the thumbs up.

"I can't say this is really my thing, but go for it." He shrugged and Alfred gave him a bemused look.

"Yeah, you prefer hairy Frenchmen don't you -" he muttered under his breath after a few seconds of silence, but was shut up abruptly by the impact of a book hitting his face.

"One does not talk about private life with roommates," Arthur said brusquely, blushing angrily and trying to dismiss the American's comment.

"Whatever, dude. Here, he sent more pictures -" he moved onto the next picture and cried out in shock, hearing Arthur exclaim similar words of alarm as they gaped at the final picture that had been sent, unable to move and rigid with surprise. Alfred felt blood rush to his ears as his virgin mind failed to process what he saw. This - this - this was not what he had expected.

Whoever this was really had followed through on every single requirement.

"Well," Arthur murmured gravely over his shoulder after a few moments, as if slowly recovering from a great travesty. "That thing is big."

"I - shu - if you don't shut right now, then -!" Alfred stammered, quickly changing the image, but unable to erase the picture from his mind. _Who does that? Really, who sends pictures like that on Craigslist?_ He was in part awe, part horror.

Arthur shrugged, straightening up and rubbing his temples gently. "Look, it seems to me like you have a keeper here. He actually took you up on your ridiculous offer -"

"It was a dare and we were drunk!" Alfred tried to defend himself, but Arthur just gave him a tired and cynical look as if to say he wouldn't believe a single excuse Alfred put forward.

"Sure it was. Anyway, he took you up on it and however you look at it he's a physically appealing dominant male who will probably happily pound your gay American bubblebutt ass into the mattress for three hours -"

Alfred interrupted crudely, shouting expletives at his annoyingly grinning roommate, unable to hide from the cringe that enveloped him. Arthur ignored him and ploughed on, his voice a little strained due to the laughter that was brimming just beneath its surface.

"- Plus he's Russian and foreigners are always hot," he finished, clapping his hands together as if he'd just finished a presentation at school. Alfred, unwilling to let his independence be spat upon like that (or at least, that was how he saw it) promptly retaliated.

"Y - you'd know about hot foreigners, wouldn't you -" he muttered darkly under his breath, feeling another burst of pain as a book slammed into his skull again. "Jesus, can you give me a break?!"

"Whatever. Wanker. I'm going out, I'll see you later or whenever," Arthur huffed, clearly having had enough of their bickering, and Alfred's eyes followed him, glaring, as he put on shoes and a coat and left, slamming the door to the flat shut prissily.

"Ten-year-old," Alfred said under his breath once he had gone. "Acts like a fucking ten year old."

He sat on the couch for a little longer, unsure of what to do. He had put the post up as a joke, a drunk mistake. He had hoped and prayed not to get any answers yet had still, for some reason, not taken the advert down. He had been reluctant about doing it at all, but hell, he had still done it. And although common sense told him to ignore a stranger's application, he felt oddly drawn to this foreign person. Oddly drawn to... his face, he came to the furiously blushing conclusion. Just the face. He found only the face attractive.

Totally just the face.

"Ah, fuck it," he said loudly, breaking the silence that had fallen once Arthur had left and getting up to go into the kitchen. There, he poured himself another coke and contemplated on whether he should tell Matthias and Gil.

Better not, he decided. They'll insist that I marry him straight away or something. Walking back to his laptop, his fingers hovered over the keys for a few seconds, contemplating his reply. Eventually, he decided: Arthur was right. Ivan Braginsky was a keeper. This was the first time any man had expressed interest in him romantically and - er - _sexually_ \- and he shouldn't let it go to waste.

Opening his email, he started to write him a rushed message.

 _Hey! You sent me pictures on Craigslist_

"No, no..." he muttered under his breath. "'Hey!' Sounds too informal... and what's with that second sentence, I sound like a perverted fifteen-year-old..."

 _Hey. I put up an advert for someone to date. I wasn't expecting anyone to take it seriously, but_

"No, sounds too much like I didn't want his answer..."

He sighed and pressed his head into his hands. This was difficult.

 _I wasn't expecting anyone to answer, but when you did it really surprised me! I'd like to talk sometime, you seem really nice_

"Jesus." Alfred groaned. Now he sounded like a creep or an idiot. You don't respond to shirtless pics with 'you seem really nice', even he knew that.

 _I wasn't expecting anyone to answer, but you surprised me in a good way. I'd really like to meet up sometime, or chat. My phone number is --, and my name is Alfred Jones. Hope you're still just as enthusiastic!_

He sighed in frustration. This was much, much more difficult than he thought it was. Slamming his fist on the keyboard, he took a few minutes to calm himself before composing the new letter.

 _Dear Ivan_

 _Hi! I saw your pictures, and, well, you definitely caught my eye. You're really - he paused - really, really attractive. And you have - he paused again - uh, a great personality. I mean, I bet you have a great personality. Like, I bet you're a really great guy. Also you're hot. I mean, uh, I find you physically attractive. Anyway, my phone number's right here and my name's Alfred. Message me or whatever. If you, you know, feel like it._

 _Al_

He skimmed over the email a few times. He wasn't sure what he was doing, he realised for the tenth time that day, as he read over it again. This was far too dorky for an attractive Russian. He'd just brush him off as an inexperienced virgin - which he was, but he didn't want to stay like that forever - and Alfred would lose his chance of ever dating anyone.

"Fuck!" He shouted, slamming his fist on the keys again, but he realised with horror that as the screen had gone blank, 'Email sent' had appeared in his screen and his draft box was empty, he'd accidentally pressed the send button.

 _He'd accidentally pressed the send button._

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He fell onto the sofa, letting loose a brief scream of frustration before frantically searching his inbox for some way to unsend emails. He realised with horror after twenty minutes of frantic google searches that there wasn't a way. He was totally screwed. He'd just sent the most cringeworthy and dorky message ever to the hottest Russian with a six pack in existence. _Fuck_.


	3. Chapter Three

Three

Notice: this story is inspired by a post by valorikei on Tumblr. Go check out their account! Thank you so much to them for giving me permission to continue writing this story and thank you so much to sasunaru13, who helped me locate them. Also, thank you so so much to everyone who's done a review on this story and followed/favourited etc. You have no idea how much it makes my day!

Alright, acknowledgements aside, let's get started with Chapter Three!

"You guys, stop laughing!" Alfred snapped irritably, glaring at his friends. Of course, the first thing he had done after fucking up so majestically had been to call damage control - his way of saying, I fucked up big time and now I need someone to drink myself numb with. Now he was sitting in a pub, lamenting his existence with a pint of lager in front of him and four people who were as unsympathetic as possible about his problems.

"You shouldn't have gotten so angry," Roderich said primly, serene amidst the hyena-like cackling coming from Matthias and Gilbert. Lukas, who was absentmindedly slapping Matthias' hand away from creeping up his thigh, nodded in agreement. "Your problem, not ours," he said monotonously. His other two friends were slumped over each other, unable to form a coherent response.

"You're telling me -" Gilbert wheezed, "That you sent that," Matthias continued, pointing at the email which Alfred had shown them in a panic, "to him?" Gilbert ended, gesturing to the pictures Ivan had sent Alfred. Alfred's ears were bright red with embarrassment and he slumped onto the counter in defeat.

"Dude, your love life is fucked!" Matthias howled. "There's no coming back from that!"

"Even my brother can do better than that and he's literally the most awkward person on earth!" Gilbert scoffed, wiping tears from his eyes. "Seriously, how did you fuck up that bad?!"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Alfred exclaimed, humiliated. "I screwed up and now there's a good chance I'll never get to talk to him. But say I could fix this..." he glared at his friends. "How?"

"You can't," Roderich said simply. "You're screwed."

"Totally," Gilbert agreed, taking a sip from his beer and looping an arm around Roderich's, who pushed him away. "'One hundred percent royally single forever', you might as well change your name to."

"'Singlest person alive'," Matthias chimed in. "'Single Pringle and never ever ready to mingle'," Lukas added. Alfred glared at them irritably. "Are you just taking this opportunity to have a huge go at me?" He said flatly.

"Yes," they all said bluntly.

"Look, never mind," Roderich said, the first to feel guilty about their incessant teasing. "Just reconcile yourself with the fact that you'll be single all your life."

"Oh, wow, thanks," Alfred said sarcastically, ready to launch into a tirade about how they never stood up for him, but at that precise moment, his phone binged loudly and he forgot his anger briefly, jumping to see if Ivan Braginsky had replied yet, heart hammering. His excitement fell as he realised it was just another text from his brother.

Dear brother,

How's life been? Yesterday I found a polar bear scrounging in my bin! It ignored me.

The maple syrup this year is especially good! Everyone is talking about it. Guess what? My hockey team won the league -

"No one cares, Matthew!" He cried angrily, dismissing the message abruptly and sliding the phone back into his pocket. Gil leaned over his shoulder, giving Alfred a sad look. "That's no way to treat your brother."

"Don't -" Alfred began, but his phone rang again and this time, as he whipped it out of his pocket, his eyes widened as he realised it was the long-awaited email, a response, an answer.

"Guys!" He shouted. "He replied!"

"Whoa, no way," Matthias said, amazed, and Alfred could have sworn he saw actual surprise on Lukas' face instead of his usual death stare. "Show, go on!" Gilbert urged, and Alfred opened the email with shaking fingers.

"Well?" Roderich snapped. "How bad is it?"

Alfred was unable to speak as his eyes darted over the words.

Dear Alfred,

Иривет! I was very much happy to receive email you sent me. I am also looking for boyfriend and I think you sound very cute! I was surprised when I read your response. I did not know all Americans are dorky when they write. Alfred face palmed.

I would like to see picture of you - also maybe know if you work out and how much you weigh, how tall you are? I not wanting to be nosy, I just need to making sure you still alive once my sister is done with you! J

Alfred frowned, and his friends, who had not yet seen the email, started whispering to each other, suspecting the worst.

Is his sister the jealous type? He wondered. Doesn't matter. I've been to the gym at least twice in my life so I'll be fine! He carried on reading.

Speaking of sister, what family you have? I have two sister, their names are Katyusha and Natalia. Natalia is one you should be scared of. Katyusha is very nice and is like mother to all of us. I am sure you like her! Do you have sister or brother, maybe? I like to know more about you! Please text me, my number is --. We are in same city, aren't we? Maybe we meet up tomorrow! You know Cafe down Herbert Road? Is good place! I see you there if you want, 3 o'clock!

Прощай! -Ivan

Alfred let his phone fall onto the counter, his eyes wide with shock. He hadn't been turned down. He hadn't been told to never contact him again for being a nerdy virgin. He had a chance. He had a chance.

"Yes!" He shouted, jumping up and down. His friends gave him a few startled looks, alarmed by his sudden outburst, but he was too in his own world to care. He hadn't fucked up. He had a chance. Laughing and jumping up and down like a little girl, he ran over to Matthias and Gilbert, hugging them tightly and excitedly before turning on his heel, giving Roderich and Lukas a grin with arms outstretched. Both backed away.

"Don't even." They both said huffily.

Rolling his eyes and grinning, Alfred ignored their cold response and dashed out of the bar, down the street, ignoring the cold rain and startled passers-by being pushed out of the way. He had a date. And he most certainly had some planning to do.


	4. Chapter Four

Four

Original post: valorikei on Tumblr

Please leave a review or favourite etc. You know the drill! Thank you so much. Also, if for some reason my writing is no longer in italics or bold in certain places where it looks like it should be, please excuse it. I am doing these things, but has been a bit difficult with uploading and sometimes doesn't include things like BUI. Anyway, here's Chapter 4!

Alfred was nervous, no doubt about it. He had lain awake all night, unable to sleep with excitement and - well - fear. What if it was a trick, what if Ivan turned out to be a woman in her fifties? What if he embarrassed himself, made a blunder of some sort and properly scared him off for good? What if he got stood up or ghosted?

"Just relax," Gil had told him when he expressed his worry to the two. "If you're nervous, you're just risking making more of a fool of yourself."

"You should take a shower before you go," Matthias mumbled, wrinkling his nose. "And I know a guy who can help you dress without looking like a cross-breed between a jock and a fuckboy..."

"Hey, stop insulting -"

"Yeah, who?" Gil interrupted, suddenly interested. Matthias scratched his head. "Ya know Tino?"

"Yeah," Gil said, taking a sip from the coke Alfred had gotten from the fridge for the three. "He's Ber's boyfriend, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Well he has a friend, some guy from Estonia, I think - who

knows a guy from Lithuania -"

"Get to the point!" Alfred snapped, growing irritated at the lack of focus on his worries. "I am!" Matthias retorted, shoving the American in the forehead gently.

"Anyway. Lithuanian man's dating some Polish guy who's a fashion designer. He might be able to help you not appear like a dumb virgin."

"What's his name?" Gil asked casually. "Feliks? I think. Feliks Łukasiewicz," Matthias responded, stumbling over the foreign surname. Alfred stiffened.

"Wait, Feliks Łukasiewicz?!" He exclaimed excitedly. The other two looked at him, confused. Alfred rolled his eyes. "Guys, he's like, A-List! I think Beyoncé's worn his brand, for God's sake!"

Matthias and Gil gave him a skeptic look. "Okay, so...?" Gil said sarcastically.

"He's big EVERYWHERE!" Alfred exploded excitedly. "He's had fashion shows in London and Paris and Milan and -"

"Okay," Matthias yawned, bored. "Sure. I'll call him then."

"Yes!" Alfred gushed, downing his coke in one go and jumping around. "Yes yes yes yes!" He squealed, resembling a teen fangirl, dancing about the kitchen. Matthias shared a look with Gilbert, who shrugged, mouthing 'guess this is his stereotypical gay thing' silently.

"Oi!" Arthur yelled from the next room. "Stop being so bloody homo and let me work, Yank!" Angrily, the Brit stomped to the doorway and threw a rubber at the American, who let loose a small grunt as it hit his forehead.

"Okay, okay..." Alfred whined, sitting back down and resting his head in his hands. "I'll stop. My real problem is how the hell I don't screw this up." He glanced up at his friends. "I'm not even going to ask you for advice. I remember how your first dates with Roderich and Lukas went," he said flatly.

"I took him to a rock concert!" Gil said proudly. "I took him to Legoland," Matthias added in. "...he refused to go on any of the rides with me and just cowered in the restaurant nibbling on sticks of butter and sending me death glares." He grimaced.

"Not my fucking problem!" Alfred burst. "Please help me figure this shit out."

"Okay, okay," Gil said. "Matthias, call the Polish dude. I'll call Francis, he's bound to have some sort of relationship advice since he's french -"

"Do you have to call Francis?" Alfred interjected, but Gil stared him down. "Do you want this to work out or not?"

"No, it's just, I don't think I can look him in the eye after walking in on him and Arthur that one time -"

"Fucker!" said Englishman screamed from the front room, and Alfred winced. Gil glared at him unsympathetically, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he taunted his friend. "If sex embarrasses you that much, then you should quit altogether."

"It - it doesn't!" Alfred snapped, red in the face. "Just get on with it and help me!"

Matthias and Gilbert shared an amused look and whipped out their cell phones. "You'll thank us later," they said.

It was Later, and Alfred was not feeling thankful at all. In fact, he wasn't sure by this point if he'd last long enough to even see his date. Francis had arrived late and extremely dramatically, falling through the doorway and weeping for his boyfriend. Arthur slammed the door in his face, which meant that Alfred was stuck with the prancing Frenchman in his kitchen.

Feliks arrived a few minutes later - Alfred was a little happier to see him. After exchanging phone numbers (Alfred insisted) and getting autographs (Alfred also insisted), they finally got around to clothes, with Matthias, Gil and Francis lurking in the background and dropping irritating hints here and there.

"So, like, have you, like properly talked to this guy yet?" Feliks asked him as he rummaged through the suitcase of clothes he had brought with him. Alfred shrugged. "We sent each other introductory emails. I think I sent him a picture of me. He definitely sent me a picture of his face."

"And of a lot of other parts!" Arthur hollered from the next room over. Alfred sighed and hid his face, but Francis and Feliks didn't even bat an eyelid.

"Ok. Like, what kind of guy is he like?"

Alfred paused. "He's... he's quite confident about his body, I think..." he reddened. "But he seems like a really sweet guy too."

"So, like, not a fuckboy?" Feliks asked. "Not a fuckboy," Alfred confirmed.

"The real issue, mon ami, is how you will impress him!" Francis said flamboyantly, dancing around the counter and sniffing the flowers Arthur had put in a vase earlier. "You need to appeal to his personality. Is he shy? Is he into sports or art or music? Et cetera."

"Probably into music," Alfred guessed. Then he sighed, placing his head in his hands. "I don't know. He didn't reveal much about his character. He's a family man, I think. He seems to care a lot for his sisters? Apart from that, I don't know."

"That's totally okay. I'll just, like, give you some casual wear so you can, like, make a good impression." Feliks murmured, picking out a coat and t-shirt. Alfred frowned. "Is that a bomber jacket?"

"Not strictly from my collection. It's, like, an old WWII relic. I'll lend it to you if, like you want." Feliks looked at the jacket fondly. "My great-grandfather was, like, a pilot for the RAF. He got it from, like, a friend, I think." He handed Alfred the jacket. "Here." It was heavy and the leather smelled musty. Alfred, strangely enough, felt right at home as soon as he put it on.

"Am I set now?" He asked, but Francis and Feliks gasped simultaneously. "Goodness, no! For a fan of my works you have, like, totally poor taste!" Feliks huffed. Alfred sniffed. "Sorry. I forgot, never wear blue denim jeans with brown leather." He shook his head apologetically.

"Here, try these," his stylist said brusquely. "Brown trousers. Professional and stylish with your jacket." He handed him the clothes, and Alfred glanced them over.

"I'll get changed then." Feliks grinned. "That's, like, totally the spirit."

After several minutes of frantically chasing Francis out, who was trying to sneak a look, Alfred finally got into the clothes. He walked out feeling great, but in all honesty he was doubting his own capability to function at this rate. He'd already dealt with two of his friends, his grouchy roommate, a sassy designer and a French pervert. He wasn't sure if he could survive a date too.

"You'll be fine!" His friends had told him encouragingly when they had finally gotten their act together. "What can go wrong?" They'd patted him on the back and wished him the best in all seriousness. He had left the flat with a nervous grin and rosy cheeks, his heart skipping a beat of excitement.

What can go wrong indeed, he thought to himself pissily as he sat in the cafe, arms crossed and scowl ingrained in his features, waiting as he had been for the past hour for Ivan Braginsky to show up.


	5. Chapter 5

Five

Original post: valorikei on Tumblr

Please review/favourite/whatever. It means the world to me to know what I write is appreciated! Thank you so much to everyone who has already. You're awesome. Plus, sorry it took me so long to update, and that this chapter is shorter than the others! My holidays just ended and on the first day back in school I got blasted with a shit ton of homework, so I've been busy. Here it is at last, though!

Alfred had been waiting for at least an hour now, and was close to tears. At first, he had waited excitedly, and had ordered at least five coffees out of excitement. Of course, as the caffeine wore off it made the dawning realisation that Alfred had been stood up even worse. Like an idiot, he had been sitting in the cafe, staring out of the window foolishly waiting for him to show up. And he hadn't. Of course he hadn't.

Why would he? He thought to himself. Suddenly he was crying in earnest, hot tears blurring his vision as his heartbeat quickened and his fists clenched around the table. His cheeks burned in humiliation as he watched the waitress by the till give him a disgusted look.

Why would he? You're such a gullible idiot, Alfred Jones. Just take your fucking stupid military jacket and leave.

Tears dripped onto the table, and he felt his face redden in embarrassment as some of the other customers looked his way. Was there any better way to humiliate himself further? He had already been tricked. Now he was snivelling all over the paper napkins. He'd never been one to cry over embarrassment, but he'd never wanted to fall this hard on his face when it came to dating. He had been looking forward to this for days.

He grunted in frustration, gritting his teeth and rubbing at his face furiously with his sleeve. He should go, he told himself, before he wasted any more time waiting for a guy who wasn't going to come. Slowly, he stood up and made his way towards the door, placing every step carefully as if he'd stumble if he made the wrong move, blood pounding in his ears and his eyes glued to the floor. He knew everyone in the cafe was staring at him, and just wanted to be out of there before he started sobbing.

Just leave. Just leave. Just leave -

"Alfred?!" He heard a voice shout breathlessly in the distance, and looked up, eyes wide with surprise. The cold air stung his skin as he reached the doorway.

"Ivan?" He said, hoarse, speechless as he recognised the man who was running down the street, waving frantically and shouting. His scarf flattered behind him wildly, billowing around his shoulders and his face, and his eyes were wide and red around the edges like he'd been running a long time. His face was desperate, urgent, and Alfred felt himself unable to do anything.

"Alfred! Thank goodness! I am so sorry, I know you are angry probably and I deserve that, but please let me explain -" Ivan's face was framed with concern and he seemed tense, distraught almost. He grabbed Alfred's arms with his gloved hands and started to talk, apologising in a never- ending fashion, talking and talking and talking, and Alfred tried to take it all in, but his mind seemed stuck like a broken record, and the words seemed to bounce in one ear and out the next.

"And my sister was locking me in, and -"

"Where were you?" He finally said darkly. Ivan looked at him, confused. "But - I - I was just explaining why I was being so late to the date..."

"Explain again... please..." Alfred said curtly. "I waited an hour to see you and you're late because of what? Your sister locked you up?" His voice cracked and he felt tears prickle in his eyes again. Don't cry, don't cry, for fuck's sake stop fucking crying...

Ivan swallowed and Alfred could see the upset in his features. "Look, I am very sorry. Unbelievably sorry. My sister is... very close. She does not want me in relationship because she worry I might be hurting if anything happens. And she... she does many things to stop me from relationship." He sighed and rubbed his face, his hands shaking and his back hunched as he stared at the ground. "She lock me in bedroom for half hour. Then I had to get bus here because she take car, and I live outside of city."

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "You expect me to believe that bullshit?" he mumbled vindictively, too tired to argue aggressively. Ivan flinched. "No. I am not expecting for you to be believing me. But please, if you want to making this work for even a little bit longer, then trust me." He looked Alfred in the eyes and the American was caught off-guard by how beautifully bright and bluish-purple his irises actually were.

He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Feliks would kill him later, he thought to himself with a slight chuckle.

Ah, fuck it.

He grinned slightly, rubbing his eyes dry and hiccuping. Ivan gazed at him regretfully. "I am so sorry. Really. I know is no excuse and that you are very angry, and you should be..." he stared at his feet. Alfred felt his chest tighten.

"It... it's okay," he said, eventually. "I... I don't exactly have a crazy sister, but I'd be in the same predicament if I did, I guess..." he smiled shakily. "And you're here, at least. I didn't get stood up after all." Ivan's eyes widened in surprise, face slightly red. Alfred sighed, brushing hair out of his face, and noticed for the first time how cold the British air was billowing lightly around them. It was oddly awkward. He could feel his tears drying slowly.

"... wanna buy ice cream and watch Frozen?" He said eventually, looking at the Russian through his fringe and reddening to a deep crimson. This wasn't really how he had imagined his first date to go, in all honesty, but he was basically dead by now and he could not think of anything he'd rather do than watch a Disney movie. Ivan's eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise, and after seconds of stretching silence, a gentle smile blossomed across his face like a sunflower.

"Yes. That sounds nice."

Ivan reached almost instinctively for Alfred's hand, and he pulled away, partly out of shock and partly from reluctance. He breathed deeply. "But I don't think we can do that today, Ivan. I've had too much bullshit for one sitting and I know it's not your fault - I know, I know," he shushed Ivan as he made to speak again. He pressed a finger to his lips.

"Look. I've never done this before, so maybe I'm doing it wrong. But I just can't right now. I'm exhausted and truth be told I still have a bunch of coursework sitting at home, plus my flat is full of strangers right now so we wouldn't be able to go to my house anyway. But that doesn't mean I don't want to give this another go. Okay?" Ivan nodded earnestly. "Is okay," he said in response, gently removing Alfred's finger from his lips and clutching his hand in his large warm palms.

"I'm going to be here tomorrow. Same time. We can go and buy Ben and Jerry's and cuddle up on the sofa watching Disney movies, and..." Alfred blushed, covering his face with his hands. "Sorry," he said eventually. "I know this is stupid and it's probably not ever anything someone as confident as you has ever done on a first date."

"No, actually..." Ivan said slowly, smiling slightly, whether from embarrassment or happiness, Alfred wasn't sure. "That sounds very nice. I like cuddling."

Alfred smiled into his palms, too reluctant to show how his cheeks were heating up, and consequently jolted a little when Ivan pressed a gloved hand to his face and caressed it lightly. He looked up. Ivan chuckled. "I won't be late next time, then." Ivan rubbed his thumb across his cheek for a split second, then drew away and turned round, slowly traipsing back up the street.


	6. Chapter 6

Six

Dear humans! I am so so sorry if my Russian isn't up to scratch. If any of you out there read/write/speak Russian and you spot a mistake in my writing, please pardon my mistakes. Same goes for my French, although since I've been learning that for three years hopefully it's a little better. Yeah, really only expect high standards of language when I'm writing in English or German...

Sweet baby Jesus this took long to write.

Onwards!

Ivan Braginsky personally adored Alfred Jones.

It was mostly pure. Mostly. He had felt awful after his sister locked him away - he had humiliated him by making him wait for over an hour, making him cry. But also a tiny, tiny bit lustful. Something that he repressed because he knew it was ridiculous, to crave the tear-stained face of someone else. But still, it was there. And it was part of his growing affection for Alfred.

The next day, he bought positively buckets worth of Ben and Jerry's. He figured the made the American might like it - at least, he hoped he did. Alfred seemed to like all things sweet, particularly donuts and the like, so he hoped this might make up for his blunder yesterday. Well. Partly his sisters blunder for locking him in the apartment, but either way.

"Hello," he said cheerfully as he rang the doorbell, holding up the bag of ice cream. Alfred smiled, clearly tired, but not unhappy to see him. A good sign, Ivan dared to wager. A second face appeared at the door.

"Is this your Russian friend?" The Brit asked, and Ivan noted how thick his eyebrows were. It was slightly absurd. They looked like caterpillars.

Alfred blushed, and Ivan could feel red tinge his cheeks too. "We aren't going out..." Alfred said quickly, and though Ivan's hopes were decidedly crushed at those words, he nodded, smiling hurriedly. The Englishman shrugged, stepping aside so that the large guest could walk inside, but Ivan felt his cynical gaze give him a once-over as he passed.

Alfred's house was far messier than his, but then again, it was Katyusha who kept his place in order, and Ivan suspected that a flat with two college students would be untidy. Arthur walked leisurely over to the room Ivan assumed was his, noting that from what he could see, the Englishman's room was far tidier than the rest of the flat.

"Does Arthur have girlfriend?" He asked Alfred, who looked a little alarmed before laughing. "God, no. He's gay, too, I think his boyfriend is staying the night so you'll probably see him too."

"Staying... the night?" Ivan said slowly, before realisation dawned on his face. "Oh."

Alfred grimaced. "Yeah. Sorry." He walked over to a shelf full of films, pulled a DVD out of its packaging and slid it into the television. Ivan saw the label. "Rapunzel? I thought we were watching Frozen."

"Yeah, but Lukas - one of my friends - borrowed it a few weeks back and hasn't returned it. D'you mind?"

"Oh, no," Ivan said quickly. Whatever Alfred had was fine.

"That reminds me, how good is your English?" Alfred asked politely. "Not to be rude. But will you be able to understand all of it, or should I put subs on?"

Ivan felt heat spread across his chest. That was so nice of him.

"I will be fine without the subtitles, but thank you anyway." Alfred shrugged. "Whatever you say, dude." The tv flickered on and Alfred threw himself on the sofa. "Come on, sit down!" He urged.

Ivan perched nervously, unwrapping the ice cream slowly and sitting awkwardly at a safe distance from Alfred, who had thrown himself across the couch. "Umm... do you have spoons?" He said eventually, wondering if Alfred was planning on eating the ice cream with his bare hands. He nodded enthusiastically, leaping up and yanking the drawer open and thrusting it shut again once he had withdrawn two spoons. Honestly, he's like a little child, Ivan thought to himself, a little warmed at the sight of his 'date' so excited over ice cream.

As the movie began, Ivan noted how Alfred was beginning to relax, focusing more on his food and the film before him rather than the man who was pretty much a stranger to him still. Though Alfred had been very expressive from the beginning, Ivan had noted his guardedness. He never allowed any part of them to touch whilst they sat, and he always kept a pillow clenched to his chest, whether he realised if he was doing it or not. Ivan supposed it only made sense - they had only met once in real life and already they were sharing a sofa. He too would be on guard if he didn't want so desperately to get to know Alfred better, and if this decision weren't clouding his judgement so drastically.

However, about halfway through the film, Alfred's folded legs unfolded and their feet began to touch. Neither moved and it stayed that way. Then, about ten minutes later, when both were incapable of eating any more ice cream, Alfred leaned over to Ivan's half of the sofa and began playing with his scarf absentmindedly.

"What's this?" He said distractedly. Clearly the film wasn't really doing it anymore. Ivan flushed.

"It just present from my sister. She gave to me when I was very small, maybe five or six."

"Cool," Alfred smiled up at Ivan and he felt his heart flutter. Their shoulders were touching and it was almost romantic.

"You must love your sister a lot."

"Yes, both of them, even Natalia," Ivan chuckled, loosening up a bit too. "You have brother, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Alfred said with a smile on his face. "His name is Matthew and he's studying in Canada right now. He's super nice and loves maple syrup and polar bears for some reason. And he has an inferiority complex because everyone ignores him..." Alfred grimaced and Ivan saw a flicker of anger cross his face as his eyes darkened a little. "Even our dad. But he's working on that," he brightened up abruptly, grinning. "Therapy and everything. Free healthcare is good... I guess." Ivan smiled. "Good."

A few more minutes passed in comfortable silence, but eventually Ivan felt fingers tugging on his scarf and looked down. Alfred was practically leaning into him, oh god, and -

"'M cold," he said, face redder than a berry, and Ivan realised this would be Alfred's first time doing any type of flirting. Struggling to hide his smile, he unravelled his scarf a little and wrapped it around Alfred so that they were both wearing it. He never, ever, ever shared his scarf with anyone, but something was telling him to just do it. In fact, most of any of what he had been doing related to Alfred was impulse-based, like he was stepping out of his guarded shell for the first time in years just to take a chance. Alfred snuggled into him and he very almost nearly placed an arm around him as the movie credits rolled.

"Honhonhon," they heard a voice chuckle behind them, turning around abruptly to see a tall blonde bearded man standing over them with a rather perverted look on his face. Alfred seemed to recognise him instantaneously. "Francis, don't even start," he snapped, cheeks heating up. The Frenchman chuckled and turned to Ivan, eyes looking every last centimetre of him over, before resting somewhere that wasn't his face. Ivan shifted uncomfortably and looked to the side.

"I see your date worked out after all," Francis chuckled, turning his attention to Alfred again. "And quite a keeper too..."

"Francis, stop sexually harassing Alfred's 'friend' who he's definitely not dating," Arthur called from the room next door in a deadpan tone of voice. Francis rolled his eyes and stomped towards Arthur's bedroom. "Sacre bleu, Arthur, how am I supposed to get any sexual gratification when you won't give me any?!"

"That's punishment for the one time Alfred walked in on us because your voyeuristic ass insisted we do it on the kitchen table -"

"I think you're misunderstanding voyeurism a little there, and it was your idea to use the chocolate sauce anyway, cher -"

"Don't call me 'cher', Frenchie -"

Alfred coughed loudly. "Thank you, Arthur," he said shortly, his face crimson. Ivan didn't know how to respond.

Francis sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well. Anyway, I offered to cook tonight since Alfred and Arthur cannot cook for shit. I didn't know you'd be here, um, pardon, quel est votre nom?" (What is your name?) He gestured to Ivan, who blinked quickly as the French sank in.

"Um, my name is Ivan," he said hurriedly, and Francis grinned. "Good. Can you cook?"

"Umm, yes, but only really traditional foods or stews and things like that..."

"Not an issue. I was going to make salad and lasagne anyway, Feli leant me a recipe..." Francis turned away to the kitchen, humming what sounded suspiciously like the French national anthem. Alfred turned back to Ivan, furiously red in the face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered quickly once Francis couldn't hear them anymore. "I didn't realise he'd harass you the minute he got here, or that they'd be having a domestic dispute in the middle of a co-shared flat..."

"No, no, it's fine," Ivan whispered back quickly, not wanting to cause Alfred trouble. "I don't mind."

Alfred nodded. "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

Ivan shrugged. "Sounds fine to me."

The two got up, tripping at first because they had forgotten they were connected at the neck by Ivan's scarf, then slowly disentangled themselves and tiptoed to Alfred's room, where they slammed the door shut. Alfred seemed tempted to barricade it.

"So, uh, just sit..." Ivan perched on the bed awkwardly. He honest to god didn't know what to do. He was already aware that they'd run out of things to talk about very quickly now that the film was over. Alfred perched next to him nervously, his hands clenched tightly around the bed.

"So... umm... what do you want to do?" He said eventually. Ivan shrugged, looking anywhere but Alfred. This was like a fucking awkward play date. "Talk...? Get to know each other better?"

"Okay," Ivan said with a smile on his face, although he knew inwardly he had been thinking of another option. Chill, this is the first date, he told himself as his fists twisted around the duvet. "So, what you study in university?"

Alfred beamed, and Ivan could tell this was passionate territory for him. "Law! I really want to make a difference in the world, so I'm studying law."

"Wow," Ivan said, impressed. "That really cool, I never meet anyone so devoted to making the world a better place."

"Yeah..." Alfred seemed genuinely happy that Ivan hadn't laughed him off or called him dumb. "And you?"

Ivan shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not studying right now. I don't have money, although I save up right now. I thinking of studying Politics, or social sciences."

"Oh, that's cool. Why?"

Ivan shrugged. "I guess I also motivated to do something to make the world a better place?"

Alfred grinned. "I see."

Ivan wanted to return home one day and fix his country's political system, but he didn't want to say that.

"And what are your hobbies?" Alfred asked, rocking backwards and forwards. "I like cartoons and Marvel and fast-food and music and steampunk!"

"Um," Ivan responded, not sure how to react to such an avalanche of information. "I like knitting?"

Alfred frowned. "That can't be it." Ivan facepalmed. "No, no, I - I like other things too, I mean..." he sighed. "I also like art and music. And comics. But I also like languages."

"How many languages do you speak?"

"Russian, English, French and German. I was raised in... three languages? Family that speaks three languages?" He turned to Alfred, who clicked his fingers and grinned.

"Trilingual?"

"Yes. I grew up in a trilingual family, so learning a fourth wasn't that difficult."

"That's awesome, do you have any idea how lucky you are?!" Alfred beamed. "I can barely even English!"

Ivan chuckled even though he didn't quite get the joke.

The two lapsed into comfortable silence, but as that silence began to drag out and Alfred started to run out of things to say, it quickly became unpleasant. Alfred felt his heart hammer as he let the awkwardness take hold. Fuck, don't let this happen... Ivan seemed preoccupied with Alfred's wall colour as he desperately thought of a discussion subject.

"I like your walls," the Russian said blankly after a few more seconds, and Alfred cringed. This really wasn't working. "Th - thanks," he said defeatedly. "L - look, why don't we talk about something else?"

"Like what?" Ivan said, and if it weren't for the blatant tone of confusion in his voice then Alfred could have sworn he was flirting. Maybe he was just desperate to get rid of the tension, Alfred justified his thoughts. That was probably it.

"Look, I -" Alfred felt something in him say Do it now, breathed deeply and leant forward, falling short of the mark last second and resting his forehead on Ivan's shoulder instead of his lips on his. "I -" come on, stop trying and failing to pull moves on the first date and get a grip, can this even be called a date -

But then Ivan leaned down towards him and their faces were centimetres apart, and Alfred could feel his breath on his cheek and his heart began hammering like an animal desperate to escape, and he wasn't quite sure how they had gotten from talking about walls to this because he was so sure that any second their lips would be touching, and then -

"Alfred! Ivan! Le dîner est prêt!" (dinner is ready!) Francis hollered, opening the door without so much of a warning, wearing a baby blue cooking apron with flowers on it. He froze in shock as he saw the two centimetres away from, well, kissing -

"What the hell, Francis?!" Alfred shrieked, and he could hear Ivan swearing in Russian as they quickly distanced themselves from each other, faces purple out of a mixture of anger but mainly embarrassment. "Dude, we were just about to - to - fuck you!"

"Иисус Христос..." Ivan muttered (Jesus Christ)."I never want that to happen again..."

Francis chuckled with his mouth curved into a leer. "What a shame I didn't wait a few minutes before walking in, hon..."

"Please never, ever, ever talk to me again..." Alfred mumbled to Francis. "I'm going to die..."

"If they're fucking you owe me twenty pounds!" Arthur yelled from the kitchen, and Alfred yelled with frustration. "We're not fucking!"

"I'm afraid it's true, cher," Francis called to his boyfriend mournfully. "I should have waited ten minutes, then we might have seen results..."

"Shoot me," Ivan muttered.

"Ah well. Give things time, I suppose. Dinner's ready, anyway, so come on. There's nothing like an intensely awkward atmosphere whilst eating lasagne." Francis beamed.

"Thanks for putting it like that," Alfred growled as he got up, refusing to look at anyone, least of all Ivan.

Dinner was, indeed, so intensely awkward that neither Ivan or Alfred could muster up any speech, and Francis and Alfred made it worse by being extremely romantic. Alfred suspected they were doing it on purpose.

"Say 'ahhh'..." Arthur said, holding his fork across the table to Francis. Francis opened his mouth cautiously, before closing it again and frowning. "You haven't seasoned it with anything, have you?"

"Why would I do that?" Arthur said crossly. "Look, so you think my cooking's abominable, but I can't surely mess up salt and peppering my food, can I?"

Francis looked dubious. "Cher, you once nearly set the house on fire because you used seventy kilograms of chilli in your pathetic attempt at tacos."

"Oh, yeah, I remember that," Arthur said. "Antonio wouldn't talk to me for weeks. I didn't even know chilli was flammable."

"Exactly," Francis muttered. "I think I'll pass -" Arthur shoved the fork in his mouth, and for a split second Francis' face was still normal before it twisted into a disgusted scowl.

"Mon dieu, Arthur, what the hell have you done to my cooking?!"

"Like I just said, I seasoned it!"

"It tastes vile in every sense! You can't just shove that meaty, salty thing into my mouth -"

"For fuck's sake, stop making sex puns -"

"You murderer of lasagne!"

"Shut it, Frenchie -"

"Um - I -" Alfred began, but at that moment a phone began to ring and the room fell silent as everyone checked their pockets.

"Uh, whose is it?" Alfred stammered eventually, but Ivan held up his hand as he pulled his phone from his pocket. "I... um, it's mine," he said fearfully, holding his phone away from his chest as if it might bite him.

"Well go on then, pick it up," Arthur said crossly. Ivan gave him a terrified look before touching the 'accept call' button, pressing the phone to his ear.

All the voices went quiet as a louder one dominated the room through the speaker. It sounded feminine, though barely just, and deep and gravelly with a thick heavy accent.

"Старший брат! Where are you?!" (Big brother) Ivan shuddered. The voice continued. "You haven't gone to see American boy again, have you?"

"No, no, Natalia," Ivan said hurriedly. "I am out with... friend." He sent Alfred an apologetic look and gave a silent beg to Arthur and Francis to be quiet. They were both snickering under their breaths.

"... Big brother, you have no friends. Everyone is scared of you."

"Aah, shut up!" Ivan quickly exclaimed, reddening. "S-stop making joke, Natalia, haha!"

The line went suspiciously silent and Alfred felt as if he should be dreading what was to come next. He imagined a burly woman lifting weights and downing vodka mixed with borscht on the other end of the line, despite himself having seen a picture of Ivan's sisters and knowing neither of them looked like that, or that Russian women really did that in general.

"Ivan?" The speaker crackled into life, although it was a different voice now. Still deep and thick with a Slavic accent, but softer and more motherly. Ivan breathed a sigh of relief.

"Katyusha?" He mumbled into the speaker, and the voice spoke back. "Ivan! Thank god. How are you? How is date going?"

"Kat!" Ivan flushed, and Alfred felt his cheeks redden too. Francis cooed adoringly.

"Да, да, извините ..." (yes, yes, sorry...) the voice said apologetically. "Look, I just took the phone off Natalia, but... well... she's gone..." the line went silent again. "Oh. I think she's left the house."

Silence again. Arthur and Francis were kicking each under the table.

"She's taken the car..."

"What?!" Ivan exclaimed worriedly. "You did not tell her where I went, did you?"

"Um..." Katyusha coughed a little. Alfred wondered what was going on. "Um, I might have..."

The kitchen fell silent. Francis eventually piped up.

"Is that... Katerina? Katya? Er... Katy? Now that I do recall she was Russian," he murmured. Arthur sent him a suspicious look.

"Ukrainian," Ivan corrected him coldly. "And her name is Katyusha."

"Ah, that's right," Francis breathed. "Katyusha Braginsky. I did think I'd seen your features somewhere before."

"And how do you know Katyusha Braginsky, Francis?" Arthur asked icily, glaring at his boyfriend. Francis chuckled nervously. "We met in a bar once."

"Oh, you did more than just meet," Ivan growled to himself, but only Arthur heard him. The Russian watched as Arthur sent Francis a mixed look of disgust and hurt and shifted away from him. He sighed, pressing the phone to his ear again.

"Kat? You are still there?" He asked.

"Yes. Is there anyone with you there that I know? I swear I hear one of your friend's voices before..."

"Absolutely not," Ivan said firmly. "I'll see you soon. Bye," he hung up abruptly.

The room was silent.

"Well," Alfred coughed eventually. He gestured to Ivan, motioning for him to get up, sending a worried look to Francis and Arthur, who were now watching each other in heavy, stagnant tension. Ivan nodded and hurriedly stood up, the chair screeching on the floor. The two left the room hurriedly, scampering into Alfred's bedroom.

"I am so sorry," Alfred exploded immediately. "I can't believe you come over here and they're bickering all the time, I'm so killing Arthur when this is over..." he threw himself onto the bed, disappointment and annoyance crowning his crestfallen features. Ivan messed with his scarf anxiously as he watched him ball his hands into fists. "...It's really fine," he said miserably. Great. Their date had gone to shit - in fact, he wondered if it had gone to shit the moment they decided to stop distracting themselves with a movie. Really smooth moves. And all this because he had fucked up yesterday and showed up late to a date. And now Natalia was probably driving down the motorway with the murderous intent of 'saving' him.

"I should be going..." he mumbled eventually. He didn't want Natalia to get dragged into Alfred and Arthur's house, and anyway, he was consciously aware of the fact that Francis and his boyfriend had some discussion to do. Alfred bit his lip and nodded. "Right."

He stood up awkwardly. "Well... it was nice seeing you," he said eventually. Ivan smiled. "The film was nice."

"And the dinner was good before it descended into chaos."

"Yeah."

They descended into silence once more, but unlike before dinner, there was no real urge to replace it with conversation. It wasn't comfortable, the two were just so exhausted they could not be bothered.

Alfred leaned forward and fiddled with Ivan's scarf awkwardly, stretching the fabric and not looking at the wearer. Ivan took his hand slowly, cautiously, a risky move, but he was about to make things even more risky.

"A - about the thing earlier..." Alfred stammered, taking the words out of his mouth. Ivan looked down. "I should leave. I'm very much sorry about today and yesterday." Despite his words, he somehow didn't move from the spot, still gently holding Alfred's hand and not really sure what to do with it. This was fucking hard. He knew that lust was clouding his rational thought and wondered if it was bad that he was focused on sex. Probably. He knew someone nice like Alfred didn't really deserve it.

"Sorry," he managed eventually. "I know we just met and it's not fair that I moved in on you like that." He pulled away from Alfred, but the American grabbed his hand back quickly.

"No!" He exclaimed, stalling. "No, I mean, as in..." he reddened and his fists clenched in frustration. "I... I liked it," he said eventually, a tone of anger in his voice as if he disliked catching feels. "I didn't mind, I guess."

"Really?" Ivan said, surprised. "Oh."

The two stood silently and Ivan prayed that the doorbell could ring so he had an excuse to leave, because he had no idea how to escape otherwise. He didn't know whether he should apologise or run or never show his face again - it wasn't necessarily that it was all their fault, to be honest, at least seventy percent of the romantic tension had happened because of Francis and Arthur - but he knew that this date had really not worked out at all.

"I should leave..." he said eventually, and turned away quickly, but Alfred grabbed his shoulder and stared angrily into his eyes. "So that's it?!" He snapped. "You fuck up our date, we watch a fucking Disney movie, we almost kiss, my dick roommates argue and now you're leaving?" His fists clenched around Ivan's shoulder blades and the Russian shifted uncomfortably. God just let me kiss you, he caught himself thinking, and caught himself momentarily. Chill.

"No, no, I mean - mmf -" Ivan's eyes widened as Alfred pulled him forward aggressively by the scarf and crashed their lips together, his lips warm and damp and - what the hell... oh wow, Ivan thought to himself, the only thought which he seemed to be able to coherently form. Alfred's eyes weren't shut; in fact, they were wide open and blazing angrily at Ivan with a mixture of anger, a hint of confusion as if Alfred himself didn't really know what he was doing, and - was that lust? The thought was pushed from his mind as Alfred pulled him in closer, hands clenching and unclenching against his back as if not sure if they wanted to stroke him or strike out at him.

The kiss deepened and Ivan stumbled forward, losing his footing and pushing Alfred up against a wall awkwardly. Ivan let go of Alfred's hand and placed his palms gently around the base of his head, cradling him softly despite the feelings they both couldn't explain and were pouring into the connection between them. Ivan gasped for breath, pulled away for air, and -

"I don't know why I did that," Alfred said quickly, his voice shocked and his eyes wide as he moved a trembling hand to wipe at his mouth. "I don't know why I did that."

Ivan's heart rate slowly began to slow and sank into his chest. He, too, had no real idea why they had just done what they had done, and now that it was over he only felt more guilty. He wasn't supposed to treat Alfred like that. He wasn't supposed to take advantage of another person's lust and lead them down false roads. God, why had he done that?

"I - I - sorry -" he stammered. "Do you want me to leave?" He gestured feebly to the door. Ivan was pretty sure Francis and Arthur would still be sitting in the same space, glaring at each other. Alfred nodded, but he had a frown on his face like something didn't sit right with him. "I... yeah..."

"Okay." Ivan walked towards the door and pulled it open slowly, preparing himself for the thick tension that would be prickling in the kitchen where the other two were currently staring out their lovers spat. Alfred turned and looked out of the window. This was too much. He was shocked at his own behaviour - why had he done that, seriously - but at the same time - did he really regret it?

He heard the front door slam shut and realised too late that he wanted Ivan to stay.

He heard shouting from the kitchen and Arthur's bedroom door slam shut. Someone was swearing loudly and angrily in French, and he suspected he knew who it was.

He sank to the floor and punched the carpet in frustration. Why was everything fucking up? Couldn't he just have a normal date, normal feelings, normal life? Why was this so fucking hard?


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

Happy new year!

Hhhh I'm sorry for making things so awkward between everyone and going off my usual comedic slant!! Things will be a bit more serious from now on bc you know... dis story needs drama, but I'll still try to make things funny.

"Jesus, Arthur, what do you want?" Alfred snapped irritably, finally turning around to face his flat mate, who had been following him around silently for half an hour now, his face plastered with guilt. The Brit chuckled slightly, apprehensive, and rubbed his shoulder, looking to the side. "Well, you see..." he mumbled. Alfred rolled his eyes irritably. "Can we sit down first? I don't wanna have a deep and meaningful conversation in the kitchen making sandwiches."

Arthur nodded and walked silently to the table, Alfred following suit with a plate in hand. "So," Arthur began, but Alfred shushed him. "Hold up, hold up, this isn't a confession is it?"

"What - no," Arthur said, utterly dumbfounded. A look of disgust made its way onto his face. "God, you're such a dork, I'd never go out with you. What the hell gave you that idea?"

"Okay, man, chill, just checking. You were acting all nervous and anime-highschool-girl-like." Alfred shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich. Arthur scowled. "Did Kiku show you his weird hentai collection?"

"Huh? No way, I'm just a nerd."

Arthur groaned and sank his head into his hands. "Getting besides the point here. I wanted to say, I'm sorry for your date with Ivan."

Alfred stopped eating, not understanding, and frowned. "Man. Me too, I mean it screwed up really badly, but you don't need to offer me condolences."

"No, no, no you silly goose -"

Alfred snickered. Arthur sighed strongly through his nose.

"What I mean to say is, I'm aware Francis and I, we weren't, well, exactly considerate. And, um, we probably should have been."

Alfred leaned back in his chair and frowned, glancing at Arthur's face, checking if his apology was genuine. "I mean... uh, like..." he began. "I don't really know what to say about that." He hadn't really given Arthur and Francis much thought - it hadn't once crossed his mind to blame the two for the colossal failure that had been his - well, it wasn't really a date. More like an cringey meet up. He took a bite of his sandwich broodingly.

"Fine," he said eventually. "Apology accepted. How're you and Francis?"

Arthur's face darkened a little. "Fine. We - well, we haven't really spoken since that night. He - he said some things that I didn't really like."

Alfred set his sandwich down and gave Arthur a glare.

"Arthur, I heard you argue. Your room is next to mine. You know that's not true. If anything, you should be apologising for the things you said."

Arthur frowned, irritation overtaking his features. "Can you please not give me relationship advice?" He snapped, but Alfred gave him an earnest look and he crumbled. "Fine. Just - god, just don't talk about it. Can we please change the subject?"

"All right. What do you want to talk about? The fact that Francis clearly didn't cheat on you? The fact that not even he is so stupid as to do that? That maybe you're just jealous because he had flings before he met you?" Alfred refused to back down, talking aggressively, and Arthur scowled.

"Oh, okay. That's none of your fucking business. Or should we maybe talk about you giving Ivan tongue before kicking him out without explanation?" He retorted sharply. Alfred stood up abruptly, knocking his plate to the floor, blushing out of anger and embarrassment, his entire body tense.

"H - you saw that?!" He stammered, face crimson, and Arthur waved at the air in a petty manner. "Please. I'm not an idiot. I heard you - both of us heard you from the kitchen."

"Must've been a nice background for your intense lover's spat," Alfred responded coldly, and Arthur rolled his eyes, fists clenching. "All I'm saying, Alfred, is that you should really rethink your relationship with Ivan before you push that story under the rug and refuse to ever date again! There's obviously something there - sure, he's late to dates and he doesn't really speak English that well and he has a psychotic sister, but he likes you! He really fucking likes you!"

"I know he fucking likes me! I fucking like him! Before you try to give me fucking relationship advice go and sort out your own love life!" Alfred exploded. Arthur's eyes twitched and his lips twisted into a sneer. "At least I don't invite my date over to watch fucking Tangled. At least I don't start crying when I get stood up. At least I don't start drooling on people and then kick them out!"

Alfred breathed in sharply, his hands gripping tightly around a glass of water that someone had left on the table. "Shut UP!" He yelled, flinging the water towards Arthur's face and dousing him in liquid. Slamming the cup on the table, he glared at Arthur furiously, his breaths deep and fast. He felt tears spring to his eyes, and wasn't exactly sure why.

Arthur's face darkened and for a moment Alfred was genuinely frightened, the venomous look in the Englishman's eyes ready to kill. He stood his ground, though, anger still coursing through his veins, unwilling to stand down, when Arthur's face seemed to crumple, clearing, and a tired look replaced his scowl.

"Fuck this," he snapped, his voice exhausted, and stood up. "I'm not going to argue with you."

"Pisser." Alfred retorted in edged tones. Arthur heaved a sigh, the anger dissipating, and shuffled to his room.

"Where the fuck are you going?!" Alfred snapped irritably, and Arthur flipped him off over his shoulder before disappearing inside. The American was left in the kitchen with tears still curiously in his eyes. Not only had he fucked up his date, he'd offended his roommate and possibly ruined their friendship. Could things get any worse?

The flat was silent for a few minutes. Alfred sat down and finished his sandwich.

He heard voices come from Arthur's room. The Brit seemed to be talking - no, more of a shouting - on the phone to someone. Someone French. Alfred rolled his eyes and sat silently, hearing in for some sort of apologetic tones or British crying.

"... what? No, you stupid frog, of course Alfred didn't tell me to call you."

Liar, Alfred thought to himself with a slight scowl.

"Piss off, you French jackass."

No, he groaned inwardly. "You're supposed to make things better, not worse!" He yelled from the kitchen, and the voices stopped. For a while Arthur went silent.

"Yeah, that was Alfred. No, he's not encouraging me. No, he's not, Francis..."

Silence again.

"Well, I'm not calling for any particular reason..."

Alfred sighed. This would take too long and he didn't have the time to wait for Arthur to fix his relationship. He needed some proper advice. Opening his phone, he opened a three-way call and spoke to his bestest friends in the whole world.

"My man, it is three in the afternoon and you want us to have beer?" Matthias whined. Gilbert, who was following closely behind, gave a shrug at Alfred as they approached each other. "To be honest, I don't really care," he confessed. "I'm down for beer anytime." Matthias smacked him around the head grumpily. "This is - was - my happy time with Lukas," he growled. "No one interrupts my happy time -" Alfred gave him a withering look and he shut up promptly. "Save your psycho act for people who actually care, Mat," Alfred mumbled, Gilbert snickering. Matthias grouched, murmuring something about battle axes.

"So, why are we here?" Gil asked after a few minutes of fruitless browsing through aisles of food. Alfred sighed. "I want to get pissed off my rocker, but it's three in the afternoon and I feel extremely embarrassed going into a pub to do that when there are still families eating in them."

"'Pissed off your rocker?' Stop, the English slang is rubbing off on you," Matthias laughed as they walked past a row of tinned fruit. "Hey, look, pineapples!" He picked up a tin and grinned. "Can we get some?"

Alfred's eye twitched; he slapped the tin out of Matthias' hands and pulled him down the row. Gilbert shook his head at the Dane sadly. "Too soon, Mat, too soon." They walked over to the alcoholics section. "Let's just get a six pack and leave."

"But - I - what -"

"Shh. Focus on the alcohol. If you mention pineapples again I'll fucking kill you," Gilbert said soothingly. "Think of the poor souls who've already been sucked into the abyss that is Gutters."

"We can't just get a six-pack! Two beers each isn't enough to get drunk!" Alfred snapped irritably, ignoring the conversation between the other two. "Get at least two packs, then if I'm still not drunk by then I'll steal some of Arthur's gin."

"Wasn't that given to him as a gift?"

"Yeah, by his jackass older brothers," Alfred snickered bitterly. "Bet he'll kill me if he finds out I've drunk it all." He grabbed a few packs of beer and marched off.

His friends shared a look, before stopping him on his way to the till.

"Okay, are you at least going to explain what happened which makes you want to accept, even purposely seek out death by cranky Englishman?"

Alfred sighed. "Guys -"

"I mean there's nothing wrong with waking up with a blazing hangover and no memory of the previous night - it's just maybe this time you want to skip that part," Matthias continued hurriedly. "Just saying. Also, a young child like yourself has no alcohol tolerance."

"It's legal for me to drink in the UK!" Alfred snapped, face red. "Shut up! Could you not!"

Gil rolled his eyes. "Just be straight with us. We know you're still hung up about this - it's the Russian guy isn't it?"

Alfred scowled. "Bitch, no. Yeah. Maybe." He crossed his arms and glared at the milk cartons. "Not at all." He spoke stiffly.

Matthias scoffed impatiently and flicked Alfred in the forehead. "You're a dumb shit, you know that?" He said abruptly. Alfred frowned, utterly bemused, and half ways offended. "Christ, you're one to talk." He retorted after a few seconds. Gil shook his head.

"No, you don't get it. You fucked up big time with this Ivan kid, and you're a pathetic ride on dates. Seriously, bro, Tangled?" He looked at Alfred, shaking his head in mock disappointment. The American reddened and grunted in frustration, kicking the shelves. "Who told you? Francis or Arthur?"

"Francis. Anyway, my point is - you clearly suck at this whole romance thing. You have no tact and act like a kid 90% percent of the time. You're annoying and you don't know how to make an impression other than one that screams 'oh, look at me, I'm an awkward virgin, please fuck me!' But at the end of the day, that's why we're friends with you, you nob-end," Gilbert rambled.

Alfred opened his mouth to retort hotly, when Matthias interjected.

"My first date with Lukas was - as you know - absolute horseshit. I took him somewhere he absolutely hated and reduced him to an ominously muttering wreck nibbling on chunks of butter in the Lego Star Wars - themed cafe. My second date was even shittier. I took him to a sauna on suggestion of Tino - he's kinda romantic, so I trusted him, yeah? Lukas never even went in. He saw how many sweaty naked men were walking in and out of there, and turned right round." Matthias pulled a face. "To be honest, I don't blame him. But look at us now. I'm still together with him despite all that. I love him more than anything else in the world. And - well, I'm pretty sure, at least - he loves me too."

"Take me and Roderich," Gil added in. "First date? Crap, scheisse, schrecklich (terrifying), alles futsch (everything gone to shit). I took him to an Ozzie Osbourne revival concert - well, he had mentioned that he liked music - but the moment we walked into the hall he bitchslapped me - really hard, actually -" Gil rubbed his cheek as if he could still feel Roderich's hand hit his cheek. "And cussed me out in German in front of an entire stage audience before running out and refusing to talk to me for the next six months." Gil frowned. "It took another three and a half months of careful coaxing and the promise that I'd never ever listen to rock music again before he agreed to meet for a second time. I lied, of course." He grinned. "I'm taking him to a Nirvana concert next Friday. It's his birthday present." He coughed. "It's a secret, though!"

Matthias sighed dejectedly. "Something tells me, Gilbert Beilschmidt, that you will be a single man in a weeks time. Anyway, the point is - and we mean this honestly, Alfred - it's okay to mess up. It's okay to embarrass yourself. If you didn't feel a spark, just take it into your stride and move on. Learn from it. But if you really felt a spark, really think something's there, then..." he paused and frowned. "How did Romano's granddad describe it?"

"Pretty sure it was: 'Vargases always get what they want, even if it's the sweet ass of another man.'"

"'Hunt it down, Lovi, hunt it down,'" Matthias added. They stared at Alfred awkwardly, hoping he'd understood what they had meant by their pep talk.

Their friend sighed and refused to let their words sink in. "Okay, thank you? I mean, that proves nothing but that Romano and Feli's granddad is super gay for yours?" He pointed at Gilbert, who cackled and nodded. "My old man's pretty gay for him too!" He jeered, but shut up when Matthias hit him over the head to silence him. Alfred pressed on.

"So, yeah. Thanks for telling me," he sulked. His friends sighed and grabbed him by the shoulder. Alfred really could be incredibly blunderingly stupid sometimes.

"Jesus, how much encouragement do you need? We're telling you to fix it-" Gilbert snapped harshly,

"-we revealed our most embarrassing moments!"

"-we trusted you!"

"-and now you need to mend your own fucking relationship! We're telling you to chase it! If you feel like you're supposed to be together, make it happen! It's what Matt and I did and it's worked out fine!" Gilbert exclaimed in exasperated tones. "No matter how shitty your first - and second date - just go for it!"

"Okay?" Matthias said aggressively. "Did you get that into your small head? Do you understand now? Hm?"

Alfred was, admittedly, a little shocked by his friend's encouraging words. The three of them usually didn't share deep moments with each other, just laughed and got drunk together. But now they had offered up their own humiliating stories, and he felt almost warmed.

"Wh - yeah - I mean - are you saying I should talk to Ivan again?" He said incredulously. "I'm so embarrassed, I literally don't think I can..." he lowered his head. "He probably doesn't want to talk to me either. I should just leave him alone."

"But you shouldn't," Gilbert pressed. "You like him. I could tell when you got home from that date. Even though you were crying, you had this look in your eyes, and all I thought was 'love is in the air, romance burns in his blood, passion boils in his lungs...'"

"Gil." Matthias said blandly. "Shut up. Let's just get out of here before Alfred changes his mind and gets drunk after all." He turned to Alfred. "By the way, did you know that I heard something?" He added casually. "Tino's friend, Felik's boyfriend's friend, dear god, I can't keep up with all these people-" Alfred's face lit up at the mention of Feliks again. "Well, apparently they're acquainted with your Russian friend. Quite well actually. Maybe if you're nervous about approaching Ivan, you could ask them for advice."

"Really?" Alfred smiled lightly at the premise of having someone to give him advice. "Are you sure?"

"Totally sure." Matthias winked at him. "I heard from this very same friend that Ivan also seems to be missing you a lot... it seems you're not the only one who's beating themselves up over your date."

Alfred said nothing, but smiled to show his appreciation for the comment. He felt a little more confident now.

The left the store together, but as Alfred wandered home alone, he felt a little hope swell in his chest. Maybe he wasn't fucked after all.


	8. Update1

Hey Guys.

I hate to do this, but I'm gonna delete the story.

I know technically I'm also not allowed to just publish A/Ns, but whatever.

I'm not gonna try to justify why I'm doing this. It sucks for you guys and I'm truly sorry. Here are my reasons.

I've lost interest in the story. Frankly I'm having difficulties finishing it. It wasn't really planned and like an idiot I just dived in face-first and published it without giving any thought that I might lose interest someday. I don't like my chapters, the characters aren't particularly realistic to me and I dislike the direction of the story in general.

I can't update frequently because it's so improvised. It takes me so much heckin' time to come up with ideas for a new a chapter, write the whole thing down and then edit it until I'm satisfied with it. As well as my own health, and academic life, I can't deal with this all. I'd much rather write out all the story properly and publish it when I'm 100% happy with the outcome and can also promise reliable updates. You guys don't really deserve two weeks - a month of waiting for 1000 words of improvised poorly written fanfiction.

I have so many ideas. Currently I'm working on a USUK Devil!Talia story, which currently takes priority, plus a GerIta and an Allies/Axis work (plus a Nordic one which is currently in development). It's impossible to work on them all, and some of my other stories are just more important to me right now (ironically I learned my lesson and don't plan to publish those stories until I've finished).

GOOD NEWS THOUGH!

This is not the last of Alfred, Ivan, Arthur and Francis plus everyone else. Despite my dissatisfaction with the story in general, I am so happy with how their characters have turned out and I'm not going to abandon this AU.

I'm going to rewrite this. I don't know when, or how long it will take, but I will, I promise. I'll put updates on this story to keep you posted and let you know when the writing has begun/finished. I'll let you know what the new name of the fic is and where to find it. Until then, consider this a dead fic…

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

All my readers, holy shit I love you. All who reviewed and favourited and etc., you are the basis for all of my writing confidence. It makes my day to see someone appreciates my absurd sense of humour. All y'all are lifesavers for my writing career.

RECAP: The story is, as of now, no longer continuing. I'm working on other stuff which takes priority plus my own health is not good right now so…

I AM NOT DONE. I will rewrite the story someday and until then I'll keep you updated on this story on what's happening. Fave the story if you want to stay updated, and follow my account if you want to read future stories by me (warning, I ship a lot of stuff so there might be some stuff in there you don't like?) *shameless self-promo sorry guys*

Anyway, I hope you guys aren't too pissed off or mad. I'm aware that it fucking sucks when authors do this, and I am really sorry to, but I think it's better if I start over with this story when I'm ready.

SatansTomatoBitch out x


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